


Desert Storm

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Jealousy, M/M, Military John, Pain, Rape Aftermath, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13190259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: John finds Sherlock during his tour. Sherlock was left behind and hurt. John comes to the rescue but they part again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like a harmless Johnlock, so here it is. I suck at summarys, so please forgive me if it's not accurate enough.
> 
> Please drop a comment!

Dr John Watson, army-doctor, rode over the sandy hills by the camp like a maniac. He had a few hours off and had decided to enjoy those hours as much as he could. Several other soldiers had gone to the local brothel but John didn’t want that. He wanted to feel free for once. He had only a blanket between him and the horse and now slowed it down panting hard. He stood on top of a hill and overlooked the scenery. He shared his water with his horse that nudged him gently. John smiled and enjoyed the silence.

He slowly rode back to camp when he heard the faint groaning. He raised his brows and looked around. He stopped and jumped off his horse. He carefully moved over the sand listening to the noises.

He swore because he had no first-aid kit with him. He moved over some large stones and found the entrance to a cave. He wasn’t an idiot and drew his gun. Then he moved in identifying himself.

“This is Captain John Watson with the British Armed Forces. Do you need any assistance?” Another groan was the answer and no one jumped him out of the dark.

“Can you hear me? Please answer!” John’s eyes adjusted to the dim interior and he saw a person on the ground. He looked around once more and then knelt down. He used his free hand to feel for the pulse.

It was a man, clearly, and he twitched when being touched. He must be in pain and John was able to smell blood and other body-fluids.

Only then he put back his gun and instead used his small torch he always carried with him. He checked the eyes for reflexes and found some intense eyes staring back at him. Very light, grey eyes. So he wasn’t a Taliban or Afghan.

“Do you understand me?” The man licked his lips and tried to answer but couldn’t. His throat must hurt him because the strain to speak brought tears up into his eyes. He simply nodded in confirmation.

“OK, I got it. Can you get up so I can take you into camp?” He shook his head and groaned again.

“Where are you hurt? Let me see!” His hands came up and he wanted to protect his body.

“No, no. I am an army-doctor, don’t you worry.” He soothed him and held his hands for some seconds. Then he got a nod again and carefully opened his shirt. He checked over his body and saw the man had been tortured. He wondered if the Taliban had left him to die in here. But why?

He found several cuts and wounds from electrocution. He was dehydrated and starved. He had lost some blood but not too much. His ribs weren’t broken.

“Can I move you on the side to look at your back?” The man stared up at him but then nodded. Very carefully John rolled him over and found his back as damaged as his front. He chewed on his lips. It wouldn’t be easy to get him on the horse but if nothing was broken he should manage. He couldn’t leave him behind being in a state like this.

When his hands moved down to his behind the man jerked and twitched and groaned. John had an idea what else had happened and let go. He urgently needed medical assistance and psychological support.

“I’ll get you some water. Hold on.” They looked at each other and the man relaxed. John carefully left the cage with the gun in his hand again. You never knew and he was careful. His horse was relaxed and he took the water-bottle inside. He helped him up and let him drink. The man looked thankful licking his parched lips. They were full and wet by now.

“Listen, I came here by horse. It will be a one-hour ride but I can’t leave you behind. Nothing is broken but you will hurt. Do you think you can manage?” The man let out something like a snort but nodded.

“OK, let me help you. Hold on.” John managed to help him up on his legs and only now realised how tall the man was. He also was way too thin for his height and he could feel his bones poking into his body.

“Slowly now. Hold on to the reins.” The man grabbed them and held on tight. John lowered his body and shoved him up. He quickly followed and slung his arms around him. The man lost his consciousness after 20 minutes and fell back against John.

They weren’t followed and his horse stayed calm so they were safe. He made it back into his camp and rode directly to the medical tent.

“Nurse?” He called out and Private Myers hurried outside.

“Captain Dr Watson, what did you find out there?” Both men grinned and John held on to the body while Nurse Myers gently pulled and held him.

“I heard his groaning and found him in a cave while having a break. Otherwise I never would have heard the noise.”

“Lucky bloke, he is.” They carried him inside and he woke up again looking around a bit wildly. John stepped up again so he was able to see him.

“You are in our hospital tent. Don’t worry; we will be taking care of you now.” The man intently stared at John who lowered his head.

“Cut skin …” The man roughly whispered and John misunderstood.

“Yes, I know. But it’s not too bad. There won’t be many scars.” The man coughed and tried to get up.

“No!” It came out a bit clearer by now since he had been drinking some water and was more relaxed.

“Stay calm, mate. Breathe steady. Now speak slowly. What do you need?” The man was panting but then focused and pointed on his left thigh.

“Cut here and get the memory card. Keep it safe. No one can see it. Understood?”

“Wonderful. I found myself a spy.” But John didn’t say it out loud.

“You are sure about this?” The man nodded. He was exhausted but stayed put now. John carefully poked him with his finger to feel something beneath the skin. And there was it, a hard nub. He numbed the thigh and cut into there. And he really got it out. It was very small and he put it into a small plastic-bag by his side.

The man obviously relaxed now and bore everything without complaining what John and his nurse had to do. He really needed to stitch him up. And he gave him a shot of narcotics to examine his behind.

John sucked in his breath. This man had been raped multiple times. His behind was torn and it was healing already. He would have scars in there and it would feel horrible for some time. But he would heal.

John had Nurse Myers gently clean him out and wash him. He saw to a bed far away from other wounded soldiers and went through his belongings. But there was nothing. He had to wait until he woke up.

“Captain Dr Watson?” John turned around looking at him.

“Yes?” He was just wiping his hands clean and wished for a shower.

“Look at the x-ray, please? I think you need to see this.” He held it up for John to look.

“Bloody hell, he is chipped like a child or a bloody dog.” Right then another soldier came hurrying into the tent and held up a satellite phone.

“Captain Watson? It’s for you.” John raised his brow but slowly took the phone.

“Captain Watson speaking?” He asked sharply.

“This is Mycroft Holmes speaking. I assume you know who calls this number?” John swallowed.

“Yes, Sir, I do. What can I do for you?” He politely asked.

“I believe you have a man in your care?” John slanted his eyes.

“I have several men in my care, Sir.”

“The man you found in the desert? I need to know about his condition.”

“He is alive. I have stitched him up and cleaned him. He is not in immediate danger but he will suffer from his wounds for some time. There is nothing which can’t be healed time come but the psychological damage I cannot foresee.” Mycroft Holmes cleared his throat.

“I see. Did he bring anything out?” He sounded more relaxed now.

“Yes, he told me to cut him open to retrieve it. I have it safely secured.”

“Perfect, Captain. It will be picked up. Don’t give it away.”

“I won’t, Sir.”

“And Captain Watson?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Thank you for saving my brother. Good day.” And he hung up. John stared at the phone.

“Brother? What the fuck?” He muttered and returned the phone. He stuffed the plastic bag into his cargos and went to shower and have dinner. He always kept the bag close to him.

***

Two days later John checked on the man again who had slept through most of the time. But when John entered the tent now he sat up against the bed and argued with the nurse. He stopped though when seeing John.

“You, I remember you. You found me, didn’t you?” With a twitch from his wrist he dismissed the nurse who just left looking annoyed.

“Yes, I did. What’s wrong? Do you need anything?” He looked at John, still being annoyed.

“I need information!” Now he looked not only a bit wild but angry, too. John stood by his bed and looked at him.

“Then ask me.” Absolutely calm and it raised the man’s anger even more.

“How long have I been out? When did you find me exactly? Did you cut it out as I told you? Did you talk to my brother? Why am I still here?” He was sweating and his hair was a mess. John sighed and answered all the questions he could except for the last one.

“Where do you expect to be?” The man sighed.

“London!” His arms fell down on the blanket again and he hissed. He still hurt.

“Yes, well. I don’t know about that. Let me check on you again. Tell me where it still hurts.”

“Make an educated guess, Dr Watson.” John looked at him and stood with his arms akimbo.

“Your arse?” The man paled again and cast his eyes. John felt sorry at once.

“What’s your name anyway? I only know your brother’s.” Now he looked up again.

“My name is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.” John just had to smile.

“And what do you do, Mr Holmes? What are you doing when you are not spying for your brother?” A small smile came up on his face and John liked that.

“I often do his legwork, even in London. He hates it. But normally, whatever you may call normal, I am a consulting detective. The only one in the world. I invented the job.” Proudly he looked up.

“So you are a private detective?” John asked but Sherlock shook his head.

“No, as I said, I am a consulting detective. I mostly work for Scotland Yard but other people can ask for my help, too.”

“I see.” John said still being a bit clueless.

“No, you don’t.” Sherlock replied still smiling.

“You are right, I don’t.” Both men smiled until they were interrupted by a soldier coming in.

“Captain Dr Watson? There is a helicopter for Mr Holmes. Please have him ready for transport.” He saluted him and turned around.

“Finally!” Sherlock threw off the blanket and wanted to get up but John stopped him.

“Not so quickly, mate. Let me check you through before you fly away, please?” He had placed a hand on his shoulder. Sherlock first looked at his hand and then at him.

“Just hurry.” John did his best but felt a bit sad that he left. He had come to like that mysterious man.

Finally Sherlock stood. He had been able to shower and shave. Now he wore cargo-pants and an olive t-shirt. He also wore combat boots and a hat especially made for the desert. He looked great.

“Listen, Mr Holmes. You still are very thin. Please see that you eat regularly and have your wounds checked.”

“I will. Thanks for saving my life, Captain Dr John. Good bye!” He dashed outside and John heard the helicopter lift. The plastic-bag was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting up again.

Months passed and John had never forgotten Sherlock Holmes. He often thought of him and even once browsed the internet to look him up.

Then came the day he got shot. His wound was nasty and got infected. He never properly healed and was sent home invalided. He suffered from PTSD, he had a limp and his left, dominant hand, was trembling. He was fucked up. He looked awful and sick. He suddenly had grey hairs and his tan was slowly fading away in the London mist.

Rather depressed he sat in his ugly bedsit in Brixton. He wasn’t able to afford more on an army-pension but he also couldn’t stand living somewhere else. He sighed. He slumped over to his wobbly desk and opened his laptop. His therapist had told him to write a blog. He was supposed to write a blog about the things happening to him. But nothing whatsoever happened to him. He hated her a lot.

He gritted his teeth and closed the lid again. Instead he opened the drawer and looked at his gun which he illegally had brought back with him. He very often looked at it. He was a doctor. He knew where to place the barrel to make sure he died properly. But he hadn’t reached that point yet. He felt it wasn’t too far away though.

He looked at the window and saw the sun shining. He could at least afford a slow walk through a park. It was for free. He took his jacket and the well-hated cane and left his room. At least he had a free Oyster card so he rode over to Regents Park. He sat on a bench and held his face into the sun.

And suddenly there was a voice.

“John? John Watson?” He opened his eyes. Oh, an old study-buddy. Mike, Mike Stamford. He put up a strained smile.

“Yes, Mike, hallo.” They shook hands and Mike took over talking. Suddenly he mentioned a flat-share and invited him to his workplace. John followed him up to Bart’s hospital where he had studied with him.

“This place has changed a lot, I can see it now.” He looked around a lab with loads of technical equipment, computers, monitors and such. The next thing he saw was the beautiful man at the microscope. John’s eyes widened in surprise and he took a step forward.

“Sherlock Holmes?” He asked and the man turned around at once. Yes, it definitely was him. He looked better. His tan was perfect now and not sick. But he still was too thin. He was dressed very posh and his hair was looking artfully tousled. There also wasn’t any facial hair and he looked rather young.

“Captain Doctor Watson, what a surprise!” He showed a genuine smile. Mike was surprised.

“You know each other?” They just nodded still holding their hands. John cleared his throat and Sherlock pulled away.

“Yes, we have met.” John just said.

“He saved my life.” Sherlock said at the same time making John blush and cast his eyes. Mike grinned.

“So, you are looking for a flat-share?” Sherlock asked and John nodded.

“Yes, I do. But who’d want me for a flatmate?” He sadly smiled.

“Don’t be an idiot. Come and see the place I have found. Together we can afford it. It’s 221B Baker Street.”

“Fuck, Baker Street. Way too expensive.” John thought. Out loud he said:

“When?” John sounded hopeful, Sherlock thought. It gave him a good feeling. He was interested then.

“Seven tonight?” He asked and John confirmed. Sherlock rubbed his hands and donned his several-hundred-pound-coat.

“I need to dash. See you tonight, Captain Doctor!” And gone he was. John was in awe.

***

Later that evening he stood on the curb in front of 221B Baker Street and looked at the door.

“Why did I come here to have a look? It will be too expensive anyway.” He sighed.

“Captain Doctor! You came, welcome!” Sherlock reached out to take his hand again. He had just left a cab and John hadn’t noticed at all. They shook hands again and John felt much better.

Sherlock opened the door and they walked upstairs. There Sherlock opened the door to the flat and motioned for John to enter first.

“Well, this is …” John didn’t know what it was. For sure it was a mess. Sherlock looked at him and the happy expression left his face rather quickly. Instead there was disappointment and sadness and fear? John wondered.  
“I can clean, Captain Doctor. I can throw something away.” He already started to rummage.

“So this is all yours then?” John asked looking around some more. Somehow he liked it.

“Yes, it is. But we will fit your things in, no problem.”

“It really isn’t.” John said but didn’t explain. Sherlock didn’t ask.

“So you will move in with me?” There was hope sparkling again. John swallowed.

“How much?” He dared to ask. Sherlock just shrugged.

“Whatever you can give. It will be just fine. So?” And John nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving in.

John arrived the next day with his boxes. Sherlock just looked but didn’t comment on the amount of two. But he helped carrying them upstairs into John’s room.

John was fairly surprised when seeing the room now. Sherlock must have dusted and cleaned and even got new curtains somehow. The flowers stuck in a glass and were probably stolen in Regents Park. John was happy.

Sherlock wondered if he had done it right. He wanted John to feel welcome, to feel good.

John looked up at Sherlock and saw his insecure expression. He decided to give him a hug and pulled him into his arms.

“Thank you. This is such a kind surprise. I like it. Thank you!” He felt him tense at once but kept holding him gently. Of course John remembered what had happened to Sherlock in Afghanistan but he wanted him to cope with this.

He didn’t hug back though but John didn’t mind. At least he didn’t push him away.

“I am glad you like it. I wasn’t sure how to make you feel welcome. I mean because you really are. Welcome, I mean.” Now he looked a bit helplessly at him and John just smiled.

“I do feel welcome.” Sherlock smiled.

“We could celebrate with a dinner? Would you like to have dinner with me?” John’s eyes shone.

“Yes, I do. But it has to wait until I get my next pension.” Sherlock snorted.

“Nonsense. We don’t have to go to a restaurant. We can order take-away or cook ourselves.” Sherlock suggested.

“Ourselves?” John asked raising a brow. He couldn’t imagine Sherlock cook.

“Well, you could cook. I am sure you are a great cook.” John grinned but nodded.

“Well, we will survive it. But you have to come along for the shopping.” Sherlock looked shocked.

“Why?” He asked looking for a reason to stay at home.

“It’s more fun. And I don’t know what you like.”

“I could tell you now?” They still stood upstairs in John’s room.

“Please?” John said.

“OK, you have won. I’ll come along.” He turned around muttering something about tedious and boring and pedestrian but he grabbed his coat, mobile and wallet and waited for John.

They walked to the closest Tesco and John took a cart. And when they were finally inside Sherlock strolled casually between the aisles looking at the goods. John looked a bit amused. Had he really never been shopping?

“I only go to restaurants or am invited by my brother or I do order take-away. I never cook.” He suddenly said looking at the different vegetables and fruits. John looked surprised.

“Are you reading my mind?” He asked. Sherlock didn’t even look at him when he placed two oranges into the cart.

“Yes, you are like an open book. All your emotions are easy to read. Does it bother you?” He asked. John shrugged.

“No, I don’t think so. Never mind, Sherlock.” Now John looked at his shopping-note and Sherlock snatched it away.

“I have seen the pasta already. I’ll get it.” And he dashed away. John grinned. He seemed to have found a suitable playground for Sherlock.

They needed more than an hour to get everything and Sherlock denied a walk home. Instead he ordered a cab and made John swallow. He wasn’t used to these expenses. He just couldn’t afford it anymore.

But Sherlock paid and they arrived home safely. They carried everything upstairs and John stored the goods into their kitchen. Sherlock couldn’t be bothered but watched him anyway leaning against the door.

“What happened to you? I mean it is obvious you have been shot at.” John tensed and had to close his eyes for a second. He didn’t turn around.

“Yes, that’s right. A sniper got me and the wound became infectious. It left a nasty scar. Now I am a limping cripple with a shaking hand. I can’t perform surgeries anymore.” John almost pushed the groceries into the fridge.

“You can still be a doctor though. And you could still fire a rifle.” That statement made John look over his shoulder.

“I probably could, yes.” There was a small smile on his lips.

“What about you?” John asked after a few seconds.

“What about me?” Sherlock asked back. He didn’t want to answer the question.

“Sherlock, I am a doctor. I know what was done to you. So please talk to me.”

“About what? How it was done?” John just looked at him.

“I can’t …” It came out rather roughly and he turned away.

“I’ll be with you for dinner, John.” He only whispered the words and closed the door behind him. He actually had fled into his room. John at first wanted to follow him. He was a care-taker. But he decided not to. They weren’t that close yet.

Instead he sat down on the sofa and fell asleep while watching telly.

***

Sherlock crawled into bed with his clothes on. He pulled up the blanket until he was almost completely covered. He started to shiver. He started to cry.

He wished someone would be holding him, soothe him and make the fear go away. He actually knew the one was right outside. But he wasn’t able to bear the touching.

So he cried and waited until he thought dinner was about to be ready.

He was able to hear John move around after a few hours and stood to wash up a bit. He also changed into something comfy for dinner. He desperately tried to cool his blotched face but couldn’t prevent his red-rimmed eyes. He sighed and left his room to join John again.

He found him with his hair standing in all directions and yawning. Quickly he closed his mouth.

“Sorry, I just woke. I fell asleep watching crap-telly. I hurry if you are very hungry.” Sherlock smiled.

“Don’t worry, it’s OK. Oh, have a look into the mirror.” John raised a brow but went into the bath. Sherlock heard a short laugh. John returned freshly combed.

“Are you feeling better now? I am sorry that my question made you feel so bad.” John seriously looked at him.

“It’s not easy. But I want you to know that I am glad you are here.” It was enough for John who started to cook right then.

Sherlock had no idea what to do. But he wanted to help him. Instead of messing up their dinner he collected plates and such to set up the table. He got a bottle of wine, too. He even found a table-cloth and napkins. He wiped the table clean and had to scrub at some parts due to some experiments. Right in the middle he placed a candle. He actually liked what he had done and John looked a bit surprised, too, but then he smiled broadly.

“This looks nice. I like it.” He just said bringing their dinner over. He looked at the wonderful plates and bowls, silver spoons and forks as well as the candle-holder. He also eyed the table-cloth and the linen napkins. He sighed and sat down.

“You really like this.” Sherlock was stunned. John seemed to be happy.

“Yes, I do. I haven’t had something like this for ages. Thank you …” Then he cleared his throat and held up the bowl for Sherlock to take pasta. And for once Sherlock really was hungry.

They sat and ate in silence and Sherlock poured the wine. They clinked glasses and needed no words. Sherlock was thinking how much he liked this. He had never missed this before but now, with John in his flat, this was new and good. And he ate quite a lot.

“You are a good cook, John.” Sherlock stated and made John grin. He liked to be praised.

“You think?” Sherlock nodded.

“Yes, absolutely. You have to cook regularly now.”

“Then we have to go shopping more often.” Sherlock sighed but smiled doing so.

“Would you like a drink after dinner?” Sherlock asked.

“God, yes. But first we will clean up. Would you help me, please?”

“If you insist?” Sherlock said but stood and collected some things. He put everything into the dishwasher and John cleared away the napkins. The table cloth was clean and he folded it back up and stored it. He brought the bottle and glasses over to their coffee-table, too. Sherlock brought nosh and drinks. They ended up on the sofa and Sherlock switched on some violin music. John hummed and leaned back with his drink.

“Do you like this?” John nodded.

“God, yes. It’s beautiful.”

“I composed it.” John looked at it.

“You did? Wow!” Sherlock got a rosy shade on his cheekbones.

“I also played this.” He finally admitted. John sat up straight.

“You are amazing. So you have a violin?” Sherlock nodded.

“Would you play it someday?” John asked.

“You want me to play my violin for you?” Sherlock asked and couldn’t really believe it.

“Sure!” John said smiling. Sherlock smiled, too.

They sipped their drinks and slowly John relaxed against the back of the sofa. Sherlock watched John.

“He likes it here. Perhaps he even likes me? Of course he likes me. Otherwise he wouldn’t have moved in. I have to behave. I don’t want him to leave again. Perhaps I should talk to him about what happened? I don’t know.” His brain ran off and he stared at John.

Suddenly he realised that John stared back. Sherlock cast his eyes.

“What is it, Sherlock? You look thoughtful?” Sherlock looked up again.

“I want you to like it here.” John tilted his head.

“I do like it here. You made up my room upstairs. You even put flowers in there.” Sherlock blushed again.

“If I am too messy or doing weird things you don’t like, please tell me. I try to be good so you won’t leave.” Now John just looked surprised.

“I am not going to leave, Sherlock. I just moved in. And please believe me, when I am having my nightmares because of my PTSD, you have to tell me if it’s annoying. I might scream the house down at night.”

“No, I won’t tell you that it is annoying. I will come upstairs and sooth you.” He was absolutely serious.

“What?” John asked.

“How?” He asked afterwards. Sherlock shrugged.

“I will sit on your bed and stroke you. I will sing a song and stroke over your arm. Perhaps I bring some music? I will hold you while you wake up.” Now it was John’s turn to blush. But he kept looking at him.

“So you would actively touch me but I can’t touch you?” Sherlock looked dead serious.

“I need to be in control. I can’t have the control being taken away from me.” John understood very well.

“I see. I really do. I am very moved now.” And he really had to blow his nose.

“Why are you sad, John?” John laughed.

“I am not sad. I am happy that you care so much.” Sherlock smiled.

“I need you to stay. I want you to stay. I want you to be my friend.” He became quieter and the last word he only whispered.

“I am your friend, Sherlock.” John quietly said but Sherlock wouldn’t look at him.

“Are you mine, Sherlock?” John asked.

“If you want me to be?” Sherlock asked back.

“Yes, I do. I want you to be my friend, Sherlock. I really do.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living together.

Sherlock was in heaven since John had declared he wanted to be his friend and vice versa. This was something new for Sherlock and he tread very careful through the motion.

John had found work at St. Bart’s hospital. He had to work shifts but it was well-paid. Sherlock had known about the job and told him. Since he used the lab in the morgue and knew Dr Molly Hooper, the pathologist, he had talked John into applying. And it had worked. Now John was mostly occupied in the A&E and he was glad to be busy again. Plus, he earned some much needed money.

Days passed and Sherlock really tried to be good. He even did fewer experiments in the flat than before. And he stayed in the kitchen with them. He didn’t use the tub anymore or the window-sill in the living-room.

John seemed to be content in his surroundings. He even curiously looked at his experiments. Since he was a doctor he knew a fair share of medical and biological stuff. He even brought him some things from the lab in his hospital where they were to be thrown away. He had disinfected them and very thoroughly cleaned them for Sherlock to use.

Sherlock decided to thank John with playing his violin for him. He had asked some time ago and now it was time. He ordered dinner and set up their coffee-table with drinks and nosh.

And he could see that John needed to relax after his shift. He looked stressed and there was even blood on his shirt. Sherlock watched him slump upstairs and prepared a tea for him.

John was surprised when Sherlock handed him his mug. He was dressed in comfy clothes by now and slowly sipped the hot fluid.

“Thank you, mate. I appreciate it.” Then he saw the coffee-table and raised his brow.

“What’s going on?” Sherlock smiled.

“I want to thank you, John.” John looked clueless.

“Why do you want to do that?” He asked.

“I want to thank you because you are my friend, you are here with me, you are a good man and you brought me all the supplies. That’s why I ordered us dinner, have prepared some nosh and I will also play the violin later.” John stared at him and cleared his throat.

“That’s very nice, I don’t know …” John felt a bit weird by being completely in Sherlock’s focus.

“Only if you want it …” Sherlock quickly and quietly added. Perhaps he was crowding John? Perhaps John just wanted a quiet evening without being disturbed by his music? Perhaps he wasn’t even hungry? What if …?

Sherlock’s brain wandered off without him but he suddenly woke when John gently placed his hand on his arm and talked to him.

“Sherlock? Did you hear what I just said?” John asked looking up at him.

“No, I actually didn’t.” Sherlock answered still being self-conscious about his plans for the evening.

“I asked if you were alright. You seemed to be, well, off?” John wasn’t sure how to word this.

“I was worried about you. You may not agree with my plans for the evening.” John smiled at once.

“But I do! I absolutely do!” Now his eyes shone and Sherlock lost his tension.

“Good …” Sherlock sighed and only then realised that John was still touching him. He looked down at John’s hand on his arm. John quickly pulled away and somehow Sherlock felt some regret.

***

John ate the fancy dinner from an Indochinese restaurant and he liked it a lot. After dinner Sherlock placed him on the sofa and handed him a drink. John sat with his legs pulled under and watched him unpack his violin. Sherlock had also dimmed the light and lit some candles. It was cosy, comfortable. It felt like the home John never had. He sank back into the sofa and watched Sherlock. His play was beautiful. John had absolutely no idea what he listened to or if he was supposed to know because it was common knowledge.

Out of half-lidded eyes he listened and watched. About half an hour later Sherlock started to move around, too. He played the violin and he slowly swung his body around. John opened his eyes and swallowed. He saw his moving hips and got some ideas.

He swallowed and quietly refilled his tumbler.

Sherlock watched John watch him and he liked it. It seemed that John liked his play and it made Sherlock feel so good. He swayed through the room and finally finished. John sighed.

“This was amazing.” John whispered almost a bit roughly. Sherlock smiled and was happy that the light was dimmed because he felt the heat crawling up. He must have blushed and furiously so.

“I am glad you liked it. I wondered what I could do for you.” He put the violin back into its case. And well, John had some ideas what Sherlock could have done for him but of course he would never tell and let his desire win. He knew what had happened to Sherlock back in Afghanistan. He had seen his bleeding behind. Sherlock still tensed when being touched even though he knew it was John and that he was safe.

All John could do was to give him a good feeling of safety and protection. He could do that even though he would like to hold and kiss him sometimes. He also wondered about Sherlock’s feelings. It seemed that he liked him close; he wanted them to be friends. So perhaps, if John would be very, very patient, things could change.

Well, one could hope. He told that to himself when wanking in bed and thinking of Sherlock.

“Come here and sit with me for a bit, please?” John asked him now. Sherlock got himself a drink, too, and really sat down by his side. He also pulled his long legs under so they could face each other in the dim light of their living-room. John placed the bowl with nosh between them and Sherlock took some at once.

“Whatever you were playing, it was beyond beautiful.” He looked at him and Sherlock cast his eyes.

“It was mine. I composed it after you have moved in.” Sherlock quietly admitted.

“Really? You are amazing!” John praised and he saw him straighten up.

“You think?” Sherlock asked and looked at him again. Their eyes met.

“God yes! You are brilliant! You can do so many things. You do experiments, you solve crimes and you compose and you dance and deduce.” John was swooning now but neither man noticed.

“That’s not what people normally say.” John tilted his head.

“Well, do you normally play for people?” Sherlock shook his head.

“No, but I solve crimes and deduce people.” John nodded.

“Yes, and very often they don’t like what you deduce about them.” John grinned.

“But it’s always the truth!” Sherlock said and John kept nodding.

“I know. Still they don’t like to hear it. And still you are the brilliant one. For me you are.” Now Sherlock almost looked smug and it made John smile.

“So, what would you like to do now?” Sherlock asked absolutely innocent. The question made John smile in return.

“Nothing. I only want to sit here, sip my drink and be with you.” Now Sherlock openly blushed. He cast his eyes but a few seconds later he looked up again and smiled.

“Good.” He said no more but leant back into the sofa with is drink. John did the same and it was perfect.

***

Their time together lasted for a few hours while they sipped their drinks and ate the nosh. They also talked about John’s time in Afghanistan and Sherlock’s lab-work. He also started to tell John about his latest case.

“You could come along, too, you know? Help me solving the case?” He suddenly said and John looked at him.

“I can’t just show up on a crime-scene. The police won’t allow it.” Sherlock snorted.

“Please! They need me. If I will bring you along, it’s no problem. Lestrade won’t interfere.”

“Who is Lestrade?” John asked at once.

“He is the DI on the case. I know him from before. He helped me in the past when I …” Then Sherlock bit his lips.

“When you?” John asked. Now he was curious.

“I haven’t told you yet because I was afraid you would be disgusted and want to leave again.”

“Please, Sherlock. I believe I have made myself quite clear. I am not going to leave you. And whatever you did in your past is over.”

“I had a problem with drugs. I was in rehab. I was using. I am a user. Lestrade once found me and saved my life. Afterwards he let me stay with him. I lived with him and his wife left him because of me. At least I think so. He doesn’t. After rehab my brother and Lestrade talked about everything. Since then I help Lestrade with his crimes. I also solved tons of cold cases when I was bored. He brought them home and it occupied my brain. Since then I am clean.” Sherlock never looked at John while he was talking.

John was a bit shocked but had assumed some problems just by looking at him. He was a doctor for a good reason.

“You can be proud, you know?” The statement made Sherlock look up.

“What?” Normally he was far more eloquent but now he was dumbfounded.

“You have become clean. You don’t use anymore. You have found an occupation. That’s why.” Sherlock smiled a little bit.

“You mean that …” He felt hot. His face was flushed. John was able to see it very clearly.

“I sure do. Be assured I am not disgusted and won’t leave you.” John smiled at him and wanted to touch him. He already reached out but then stopped his movement and lowered his hand again.

“No, it’s OK. Please …” Sherlock suddenly said and then watched John’s hand coming up on his arm. Very slowly John placed his hand on Sherlock’s shirt-clad arm. It was warm and he didn’t twitch or pull away. Even more slowly he lowered all his fingers and smiled up at him. His forefinger moved tiny circles over Sherlock’s shirt. And Sherlock smiled feeling the warmth of John’s hand. And for once it felt really good to be touched.

They kept sitting on the sofa like this for hours. Sherlock just enjoyed being close to John, he really did. After hours John fell asleep. Sherlock realised it because his grip on his arm became soft. He looked up and John’s head was tilted in his direction. He peacefully slept and it made Sherlock smile.

Gently he pulled him down and placed a blanket on top of him. But he kept holding his hand. He didn’t want to let go. So he stayed on the sofa and watched him sleep until morning came.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting closer.

Very slowly Sherlock and John became close, very close. John was Sherlock’s company to crime-scenes and started to blog about his cases. John liked Lestrade and enjoyed the time with them. Everybody liked John because he reined Sherlock in and made him behave.

Sherlock wanted to impress John and deduced and solved like a machine. He also tried to behave properly. The only thing he wasn’t able to stop was to slag Sally off. He definitely enjoyed that and John let him. He also abused the forensic on the team, Anderson, because he was Sally’s fuck-buddy. Plus, he really was stupid. Even John could see that.

Since John earned his own money now they often went out for dinner. Sherlock had a favourite place called Angelo’s which they regularly visited. The owner thought them a couple and John had stopped to deny it.

Sherlock had to come out one day because of his feelings for John. They had gone to Tesco together to shop for their dinner and Sherlock was scanning the aisles. When he turned around the corner to join John again he found him flirting with a woman. He raised a brow. He stopped dead and watched.

John was laughing and tilted his head. The woman laughed, too, and smiled at him. Sherlock slanted his eyes and sauntered over. He stood close to John and placed the cookies into the cart.

“Did you find a suitable lawyer?” He asked looking at her. She raised a brow and slowly shook her head.

“What?” She asked. He smugly smiled. John watched between them.

“Your divorce. Your husband has left you because of your betrayal and he wants the child.” She paled and John looked a bit shocked, too.

“Come along, John.” He took the cart and pushed it forward. John followed him and didn’t look back.

***

Sherlock was hunched over his microscope and John held a glass of wine. He leant against the kitchen-counter by his side and finally decided to say something about it.

“Sherlock?” He raised his voice a bit.

“Huh?” Sherlock moved the dish underneath the lens.

“What was that about?” John asked.

“What was what about?” Sherlock asked back very well knowing what John meant.

“Why have you been impolite to that woman in the supermarket?” John wanted to know.

“I wasn’t impolite. I was deducing and telling the truth.” John sipped the wine.

“You wanted to let me know that she is traitorous.” John wondered.

“Frailty, thy name is woman.” Sherlock just said making John laugh out loud.

“Admit it, please?” John quietly demanded and moved closer. Sherlock hunched deeper.

“Admit what, John?”

“Admit that you were jealous because I was flirting with that woman.” Sherlock paled and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Of course John was able to see that but didn’t comment. He gave him time instead.

Sherlock kept fidgeting with the microscope for a bit until he spoke.

“Yes, I was. I didn’t want you to talk to her. I was afraid you would want to be with her. Then you would move out and leave me. I would be alone again. I didn’t want that.”

“Sherlock, I was just friendly. She was asking about some food. I wasn’t even flirting.” John shook his head.

“You were laughing with her!” John shrugged.

“Yes, I was. So? I am laughing with you, too, and Greg sometimes.”

“It’s different. I …” He ground his teeth and looked away.

“Talk to me …” John moved up to his side.

“I want. I can’t. I am sorry …” Sherlock stood and took his glass of wine to the window. He looked outside. John followed him and both men watched the people pass by on Baker Street.

John slowly inched closer to Sherlock until he almost touched his side and felt the warmth of his body. Their eyes met and Sherlock sadly smiled.

“I like you close. I want you closer. But I just can’t.” He sounded almost desperate. John felt helpless.

“I like you close, too. I like you. I will wait for you. Whenever you are ready.” John had finally found the words. He sipped his wine and looked outside. He felt Sherlock turn and looked up.

“John, I don’t know what to say …” John smiled.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He whispered. And Sherlock smiled, too. He relaxed and John could see that.

They returned to their sofa after a few more minutes of looking outside and neither man spoke. Sherlock huddled into their pillows and turned his head towards John.

“You know, I missed you when I left Afghanistan.” John looked surprised.

“Really? Because I did miss you, too. I even looked you up on the internet.” Sherlock just stared.

“Really?” Both men smiled and then grinned shaking their heads.

“I want to be close to you. Could you try to hold me?” Sherlock quietly asked and placed his wine on the coffee-table.

“I will hold you very gently. Come here and make yourself comfy.” He put his glass away, too, and spread his arms in an invitation. Sherlock thought about his position for a few seconds and then crept closer. He turned his back on John and carefully leant against his muscular chest. His head rested against his shoulder. Then he took John’s hands and placed them on his stomach with his hands on top to keep in control of the situation. He relaxed.

“This is good. I like this.” John felt good, too. He sat there holding Sherlock and Sherlock held him. With every single minute Sherlock relaxed more until he sighed contently.

“This is what I wanted for a very long time.” He whispered.

“Me, too.” John leant a bit forward and whispered into his ear. His breath ghosted over his hair and Sherlock shivered in delight. His grip on John’s hands became tighter.

John had a lot to do to keep his arousal in check. But he couldn’t poke Sherlock into his behind when he had just trusted him.

“Could you please move up a bit, Sherlock? I don’t want to rustle you about.” John said and Sherlock threw his body to the side so he rested between the sofa and John. He was still touching him and kept being close.

“I know what you were doing and I appreciate it. But I also want you to know that I trust you. You wouldn’t harm me.” Sherlock said.

“Your trust means a lot to me, Sherlock. I don’t want to spoil this.” They looked at each other.

“You aren’t. I never want to get up again.” John laughed.

“Well, you have to. But I could also hand you a bottle?” Sherlock blushed but grinned and shook his head.

“No, not really.” They laughed and Sherlock spread his fingers over John’s chest. Soon he started to move his fingertips over his shirt-clad skin and it lulled John into a dreamy state. His eyes closed and his head lolled to the side against Sherlock.

“John?” Sherlock asked but John didn’t wake up again. Sherlock took the opportunity to move closer and touch more. He shoved his hand under his tee and felt his bare skin. John was warm and his skin was feeling good. He could feel him breath and he could feel his muscles.

He stuck his nose behind John’s ear and sniffed. He moved his nose through his fine hair. He held his hand and looked at his nails.

John kept sleeping.

Sherlock hadn’t felt so good for a very long time. After hours of holding and gentle touching John woke up again.

“God, my back kills me …” He opened his eyes and stared right into Sherlock’s.

“I should have woken you up but I liked it here with you.” John stayed put.

“I like it, too.” He didn’t suggest change into bed because it would have been too much to ask for.

Sherlock slowly got up to give John room to move. John sat up and straightened his body so his bones cracked. Then he slumped again.

“Do you need anything?” Sherlock asked.

“Actually I would like a tea. Will you brew one for me, please?” John asked. Sherlock crawled over him at once and hurried into their kitchen.

“Of course!” He really put the kettle on and soon returned with John’s mug. John took it and smiled up at him.

“Come here, sit with me again. It was comfy.” John wasn’t sure how to explain this.

“It was more than comfy, John. I know what you mean.” Sherlock sat by his side again and carefully placed his hand on John’s thigh. Then he just waited until John had finished his tea. He swallowed and looked at him.

“If you like you can join me.” He stood and went into the bath. John stared after him. He heard the toilet flush and the water run while he brushed his teeth. Then he heard the door and finally his sheets rustling.

“God …” He whispered and ruffled his hair. He hurried through his bathroom-routine and for once dressed into pyjamas. He politely knocked on his bedroom-door.

“I already invited you, John.” Sherlock answered and John stepped inside. Sherlock had moved to the far side of his bed and pointed to his right.

“Stay on your side, please.” John smiled and took his place.

“I know better than to crowd you, mate.” He moved on his side and looked at Sherlock who looked back.

“May I …?” Sherlock started but John interrupted.

“Continue with what you did on the sofa? Yes. You may. I consent.” Sherlock used only his fingertips to move John on his back. He pulled the blanket down to his groin and rubbed his hand over his stomach. John closed his eyes. This was sensual and it was also rather sexy. It was innocent. John never would have guessed.

Suddenly Sherlock’s breath ghosted over his naked skin and John’s eyes shot open. He looked down and saw him completely engrossed in studying his body. His lips almost touched his heated skin but didn’t. John slowly closed his eyes again and tried to stay in control. But after a minute his fingers twitched. Sherlock at once looked up.

“You are irritated. Don’t you like this?” Sherlock asked.

“I like it a bit too much.” John answered honestly and Sherlock raised a brow.

“Oh, I see …” He stopped moving but still touched.

“Come back here, stay by my side and let me hold your hand, please?” Sherlock smiled.

“I can do that.” He pulled up the blanket with him and took John’s hand. He was on his side so he was facing John.

“Wonderful.” John said smiling and moved on his side, too. His thumb moved over Sherlock’s hand and he watched him fall asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romance finally.

During the following weeks things slowly developed. They become closer and closer without any sex at all. John would never have it thought possible. Sherlock was happy and relaxed and everybody liked it.

So one day when he almost swirled over the crime-scene and even smiled at Donovan, Greg talked to John.

“What’s going on? He isn’t using again, is he?” Greg asked.

“God, no. If he is using anything, he is using me.” He smiled and Greg looked dumbfounded.

“What? You two? Really?” John shrugged.

“Yes, why not?” Now Greg shrugged, too.

“Well, I know about his past. I can only assume what happened in Afghanistan. And I thought, you …” John grinned.

“What?” He asked but with a friendly smile.

“John, I am sorry.” Now Greg laughed.

“It doesn’t change anything, does it?” John asked.

“No, of course not. Everybody prefers him like this. He is different, like another person.” John slowly nodded.

“I know.” He sighed and both men looked at Sherlock.

Suddenly Sherlock looked up and met Greg’s eyes. He looked irritated but Greg smiled at him and then went away to talk to Donovan. Then Sherlock stood and walked over to John.

“What’s wrong? What did I do?” John looked up.

“Nothing, mate. Everything is just fine. Greg and I were just talking about you being all happy.”

“Why would he want to talk about it?” Sherlock looked clueless.

“Ask him yourself. But you see, I am happy, too, that you are happy.” Sherlock sighed.

“So everyone is happy, I assume?” John nodded.

“Well, I don’t know about everyone.” And he looked at Anderson, the poor forensic being Donovan’s target right now. Sherlock grinned.

“I need to talk to Lestrade. Then we can leave.” Expectantly he looked at John who asked himself what was expected of him now. Probably food and tea and milk. But he was surprised. When Sherlock returned and hailed a cab he said:

“Now we are doing something nice and stupid.” Sherlock placed his hand on John’s lower back and shoved him into the cab. John didn’t talk back. He was curious what Sherlock was up to. He looked at him and saw him rubbing his hands together. He really wondered.

They rode over to the river-bank close to Parliament and crossed the bridge. There Sherlock stopped the cab and moved to leave.

“Come on, John. We will be riding the London Eye.” John just followed him. Sherlock passed all the waiting people and talked to the guard handing over two tickets. The thick rope was lifted up for them and they stood at the beginning of the line. He smirked. John sighed.

They took the next cabin and had it all for themselves. John was fairly surprised. But he was even more surprised when Sherlock reached into his coat-pockets and retrieved a small bottle of champagne and some nosh.

“What are you doing, Sherlock?” John asked while Sherlock arranged the nosh and everything between them. He could see him blush a little but he got no answer. So he just waited until Sherlock was ready.

Finally Sherlock sat down and looked at him.

“John. Give me your hand, please?” Sherlock held out his hand and John just held out his hand. Sherlock took his smaller hand between his and covered it. Then he cleared his throat. But no words came out.

“You are making me curious, Sherlock. What is going on?” John quietly asked.

“It’s not easy. I thought about it for a long time. I thought about how to approach the subject. I thought I could never do it but now I believe I can.” Slowly John tilted his head.

“John, I believe I am in love with you. I need you to be closer as you are now. I want to tell you that my life has become so wonderful with you in it and that I want more, more of you.” He deeply inhaled and didn’t meet his eyes.

John couldn’t believe what he heard. He was moved. Sherlock loved him. Suddenly it struck him. That beautiful, wonderful man, loved him. Him! He laughed and it made Sherlock look.

“I love you, too.” He didn’t say more and he saw it was enough.

“Please?” Sherlock pointed to the nosh and poured a glass of champagne just as the cabin stopped right on top and stayed there.

“How did you do this?” John asked.

“What?” Sherlock asked.

“This!” John spread his arms.

“My brother owed me a favour.” John raised his brow and took a piece of chocolate. It was delicious. Then he raised his glass.

“This is a wonderful idea. I love it. I love you.” Sherlock blushed again and took a sip, too.

“I wanted it to be special, the moment when I tell you.” He took some chocolate, too.

“It sure is special. You surprised me. I will never forget.” John moved a bit closer.

“I suppose some kissing is in order?” Sherlock asked all nervous. But John only smiled.

“Whatever you want.” Sherlock blushed some more.

“I want to kiss you.” Sherlock stated and moved closer. John offered his lips.

“Then kiss me.”


End file.
